


I Wanna Hug You (I Wanna Wrap My Hands Around Your Neck)

by Baamon5evr



Series: 14 Days of Samsteve [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 2nd Chapter contains smut, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bottom Sam Wilson, Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Misgendering, Outing, POV Alternating, Trans Sam Wilson, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, background James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, background Luke Cage/Claire Temple, kind of, they're not so much enemies as people who just don't like each other, trans Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: Sam and Steve don't get along, like at all, until something happens that forces an understanding between the two.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam was exhausted. After a long day at the VA hospital, all he wanted to do now was fall into his bed and sleep. He trudged into his apartment, barely able to keep his eyes open. He was focusing on whether he wanted to eat before sleeping or just go straight to bed but all the thoughts in his mind left as he tripped over something and focused on keeping himself upright so he didn’t go tumbling to the ground. He regained his balance and looked back at what caused the little mishap. He promptly rolled his eyes as he saw his roommate’s shoe in the middle of the living room.

“Fucking Steve.” Sam cursed, kicking the shoe away before continuing to his room, his mood even more dour than it was before. Sam wasn’t unused to living with a roommate, he spent three years living with his friend Claire who worked at the VA hospital with him but he got tired of listening to her and Luke have sex at all hours of the day. On top of that, she was allergic to cats and Sam had recently acquired Redwing from one of the vets he counseled who felt she couldn’t handle taking care of her beloved pet anymore.

Through ads in the paper and a recommendation from Misty, a mutual friend of theirs, Sam had ended up moving in with Steve. The guy had seemed nice enough in the interview they did but Sam was finding it harder and harder to stand living with him. He was messy, leaving his shoes and clothes all over the damn place. Sam would even find his articles of clothing in the kitchen of all places, not to mention his art supplies which he left about wherever and whenever. Sam had lost a pair of his favorite socks to Steve’s artistry and Redwing had more than once unceremoniously ended up covered in his paint. He was up at odd hours banging around the apartment with no consideration whatsoever to the fact that more than not Sam worked early shifts. He left the toilet seat up which Sam couldn’t tell him was a problem without telling him he was trans and he didn’t trust or like him enough for that. Then there were his friends who behaved like a pack of loud, misbehaved children more than they did adults.

Sam had spent the first week talking himself in and out of just moving out and forgetting the whole thing but money wasn’t growing on trees for him and the rent was manageable in comparison to the other apartments he had been looking at so he bore it. That didn’t mean he did it quietly. It was probably a good thing Steve wasn’t here because at least they weren’t arguing. He felt like all he did nowadays was argue.

He sat down heavily on his bed and toed off his shoes as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He let it ring as he pulled off his jacket and shirt. He pulled it out and threw it on the bed so he could take off his jeans. It rang again, Roscoe’s name flashing on the screen. Sam rolled his eyes, he didn’t want to talk to him right now. He barely even remembered what the fight they had was about. If Sam had to guess Roscoe probably tried to convince him to have reassignment surgery again since Sam had only ever gone forward with top surgery. Bringing it up was a monthly thing with him it seemed. Or maybe it wasn’t about that, maybe it was about something completely different. Maybe it wasn’t even important. Maybe it was as trivial as him not liking Sam’s new shirt. Sam didn’t know, he just knew he was mad and he was fine with Roscoe suffering a little.

He pulled on his pajamas and fell back on his bed, barely able to crawl his way up to his pillow as Redwing jumped up on the bed to curl up at his feet. Sam dozed off into slumber quickly, his phone continuing to buzz next to him.

He was awoken sometime later by a loud noise. Sam wasn’t sure what it was at first but then he heard laughter cut through the silence and he rolled his eyes as he realized what it was.

“Fucking Steve.” He mumbled sleepily.

“Last time I checked that wasn’t my first name.” He heard Steve say from the door way. Sam rolled over and squinted into the sliver of light coming into the room from the living room. Steve was standing silhouetted by the beams. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, if Sam was single and didn’t hate his guts he’d say he was hot but a day living with him diminished that hotness dramatically.

“Why are you in my room?”

“Wanted to see if that had woken you up.”

“Obviously.”

“Sorry.” Steve didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. Sam didn’t really care right now, he was too tired to.

“Just shut the fuck up out there. I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Jeez, I said sorry.”

“I don’t need sorry, I need quiet.”

“I thought you were a councilor, not a stern nun in a parochial school.” Steve said with an amused smirk. Sam glared at him.

“Alright, alright. We’ll try to keep it down. Wouldn’t want to disturb your beauty rest.”

“Beauty rest? It’s midnight.” Sam groused.

“I don’t know what to tell you, some of us have social lives.”

“Get out of my room before I throw something at you.” Sam replied through gritted teeth. Steve smirked again before nodding.

“Nighty-night.” He said, closing the door. Sam laid back down and pressed his head into the pillow, trying to expel the ire from his body so he didn’t go back to sleep angry. God, he really hated that guy.

~*~*~

Steve closed Sam’s door with a roll of his eyes as Sam’s disgruntled murmurings followed him out. God, the guy was grumpy. He probably should’ve guessed that given it was Misty who recommended his newest roommate and she had probably been the most stoic person in the world when he met her but she relaxed around him and they were friends now. He thought the same would follow with Sam but apparently not. He was like a storm, he breezed his way through the apartment, a frown ever present on his face, and breezed back out in equal measure.

When he was there it wasn’t like he was the best roommate in the world. There wasn’t a dish in the world he found fit to wash, he let his cat do whatever the hell it wanted to do and Steve had lost some expensive paints on account of Redwing. Sam had a penchant for loud music on the weekends that completely disturbed Steve’s concentration when he was sketching for the children’s books he illustrated and not to mention he and his boyfriend seemed to have a fight about one thing or another every other week. Steve dealt with it though, he didn’t really have another option. He couldn’t afford the apartment by himself.

He walked back out to the living room where Bucky, Natasha, Sharon, Maria and Clint were.

“We good?” Clint asked.

“It woke him and he’s as cranky as he ever is.” Steve replied.

“Did you apologize?” Sharon asked.

“Yes.”

“Sincerely?” She pressed.

“Sure.” Steve replied with a shrug, garnering a look from the fellow blonde.

“Come on, Steve.”

“What? It’s not my fault all he does is sleep and complain.”

“He works at a hospital, doesn’t he? He keeps odd hours. Plus, you mentioned he and his boyfriend argue a lot, that’s another layer of stress. You just add to it. No wonder he doesn’t like you.” Steve restrained the eye roll. The last thing he had wanted to do was unleash therapist Sharon who had gotten her metaphorical PhD from watching hours of Dr. Phil.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m a great roommate.” Steve didn’t miss the look Bucky and Natasha gave each other, Maria dispensed of subtlety altogether and straight-out scoffed.

“You’re really not but if that’s what you want to think, whatever.” Steve didn’t bother answering that. He had a great track record with roommates. Bucky had only moved out to move in with Natasha, Peggy moved because she went back to England and Brock ended up in jail. Steve never received a complaint in that time.

It all had to be Sam, he was simply just the worst roommate to ever exist.

~*~*~

“You don’t look so hot.” Claire said as Sam walked over to the reception desk of the hospital.

“I always look hot.” Sam quipped back.

“Those bags under your eyes are not sexy. Let me guess: did you decide to let Roscoe come crawling back? Look Sam, I love some good dick as much as the next person but that dude is honestly the worst. I don’t know why you do it to yourself. He’s trash.”

“Hey, he’s my trash. And for your information, no I was not with Roscoe last night. I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“Like that’ll last. You didn’t break up with him, did you?”

“...no.”

“I figured. Throw that shit away already, it’s stinking up your apartment.”

“Can we dispense of the metaphor now?”

“Fine. What did keep you awake then?” Claire asked as they began walking down the halls, looking over their patients’ charts.

“Steve and his friends had some kind of impromptu party and kept me up until 2 in the morning. I swear, he’s such a fucking inconsiderate asshole.” Claire chuckled and shook her head but the way she did it gave Sam pause.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just you’re always complaining about what a shit roommate he is but you’re not exactly coming up roses in that department either, pal.”

“What? Because I drink from the juice bottles?”

“Cups were made for a reason. You pour the juice out into the cup and drink. I don’t need to be wondering about what bodily fluids are transferring from Roscoe to you to me through your backwash.” Claire replied.

“We don’t even live together anymore and you’re still complaining to me about it. The one good thing about Steve is, unlike you, he doesn’t spend the whole day having loud sex. I’d rather just hear laughter than a porno all the damn time.”

“’Cause you and Roscoe aren’t just as bad? Bitch, please. At least my man is a fully rounded package. He’s got the personality to back up the good-good he puts down. I know for damn sure Roscoe doesn’t.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Just keep me posted about any apartments that are going on sale that you know about. I’d rather move than end up in jail for strangling Steve.”

“That’s sounds kinky, sound I be worried?” Sam turned around to see Roscoe exiting from a bathroom they just passed.

“No.” Sam said immediately.

“I am on the clock. No.”

“I just want to—”

“No.”

“But—”

“My apartment later. Bye.” Sam said, dragging Claire behind him.

“You’ll tell me all about the sex later, yeah?” She asked. Sam rolled his eyes. He wished he could tell her she was wrong but looking at his past actions and how often he took Roscoe back, he couldn’t. He was an idiot.

~*~*~

Steve managed to have a relaxing day. He worked a little more on the commission work he does on the side and caught all his favorite trash television shows like Maury and Jerry Springer. He didn’t even mind hanging out with Redwing, who was calm today despite being a tyrant every other day. He didn’t think anything could break through his Zen.

And then Sam came home with Roscoe in tow.

Steve internally sighed because he knew he was in for an auditory assault. Whether the two would be fighting or having sex, he wasn’t sure but he didn’t feel like getting up and leaving, so he slouched into the couch further and turned the TV up louder in hopes of drowning out their voices. It didn’t really work like he hoped and he wasn’t expecting to hear what he did.

~*~*~

Roscoe was waiting for Sam when he got off the elevator for his apartment with a charming smile on his face. Sam didn’t want to admit the stutter in his chest it caused but conversely, he didn’t want to admit to the flat-out annoyance and disillusionment his presence also brought.

“You couldn’t wait for me to call or something?” Sam asked as he got out of the elevator and walked past the other man who followed behind him towards his apartment.

“If I called would you have picked up?”

“No guarantees.” Sam replied, opening his apartment. Steve was on the couch with Redwing but Sam disregarded him and continued his beeline for his room. Roscoe had enough sense to just follow him and not stop to greet either of the house's occupants. Sam closed the door as Roscoe came inside.

“What do you want?” Sam asked, turning to face the tall blonde man. Roscoe was closer than Sam anticipated. He made to step closer and press a kiss to Sam’s lips but Sam stopped him, pressing at his shoulder.

“No. Tell me what you want.”

“Obviously, I want you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. You know I love you.” Roscoe said, rubbing his hands up and down Sam’s arms in what was meant to convey comfort. It didn’t.

“Roscoe, people in love shouldn’t do this. Their relationship shouldn’t be reduced to fighting all the time and making up over and over again. It’s draining, it’s tiring and I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“Are you saying you want to break up?” Roscoe asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m saying something needs to change and it’s not me.”

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said. If you don’t want the operation yet, then don’t do it yet. I get it.” So that was what the fight had been about. They were all starting to bleed together for Sam. He knew that wasn’t a good sign.

“No Roscoe, I don’t think you do get it. I don’t want the operation at all. I’m comfortable with my body as it is now. I don’t know how many times I need to say that before you get it.”

“What do you mean you don’t want the operation?” Roscoe asked. Sam felt like his head was going to explode.

“I mean literally what I just said. I swear sometimes it’s like talking to a brick wall with you. You never actually listen to me.”

“When we got together you told me you were getting reassignment surgery. You told me you were going to make a full transition and I was there with you, I signed up with you for that.”

“And I’m telling you, as far as I’m concerned, I have completed that transition. Why are you so stuck on this?”

“Why am I—because I don’t want to fuck a girl, Sam!” Sam drew back at that, both at the sentence and Roscoe suddenly shouting at him.

“I’m gay! Do you know what that means?! It means I don’t fuck girls!”

“I’m not a girl.” Sam mumbled through his shock.

“You’re not a girl!? You have a vagina! What else are you?! I stuck by you through all of this because you said, once this was all over, you would be a real boy! Now you’re saying you just don’t want to anymore?!”

“Stop screaming because Steve can hear you and he doesn't know.” Sam replied quietly, trying to calm his racing mind. He could barely even sort his thoughts enough to respond efficiently.

“I don’t care what Steve can hear, I want you to hear me! I don’t want this! I love you but I can't do this anymore, not with you like this!” Sam suddenly felt all his pent up anger coming to the forefront of his mind.

“Not with me like this? Not with me like this?! This is me! Don’t tell me you love me because it's apparent that you don’t if you can still, after all this time, look me in my face and tell me that I’m a girl! You know what, if I disgust you so much why have you been with me for the last five years!? You could be gone! You could’ve been doing whatever the fuck you’ve wanted to with “a real boy” if that’s how you felt this whole time! And what the fuck is a real boy anyway?! What? You thought at the end of this I’d be fucking Pinocchio or something!? God, Claire was right, you are trash! You’ve been an asshole for as long as I’ve known you! Always hassling me about how I need to be the way you want me to be and making me feel bad about being fine with myself the way I am now! I can’t believe I’ve spent this long wasting time going back to you again and again and giving you chances and love that you don’t deserve! You want to be done with me?! Fine, I’m done with you! We are so over, I am so over this!”

“So that’s it? It’s just over? Four years down the drain just like that?” Roscoe asked, shock and anger prominent in his voice.

“Is that not what you just said you wan—? You know what? I’m not doing this with you anymore. I am tired of having to constantly try to figure out what you mean and what times you actually mean what you say. It is not supposed to be this hard. Just leave, please.”

“Fine.” Roscoe stomped towards the door and flung it open. It hit the wall behind the door with a resounding thud so hard the doorknob went flying into the wall creating a hole. Sam stared at the hole in shocked anger before watching Roscoe continue to stomp away. The apartment shook with the force of him slamming the front door. Sam glanced towards the couch where Steve and Redwing still were. The two of them were staring at him, both of their expressions indecipherable. If he had a question of whether Steve heard the fight, that expression answered it. Sam breathed out a harsh breath and shook his head as he ripped the door from the hole in the wall and slammed it shut.

~*~*~

Steve was certain Sam was avoiding him. A week ago that wouldn’t have bothered him but having heard what he did, it left an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. He felt the need to... reassure Sam? Comfort him? He didn’t know but not talking to him was grating on his nerves. They usually talked all the time. Granted it was usually to argue about the fact that Sam left the bathroom lights on or Steve and his friends were being too loud again. The sudden silence of the apartment was strange.

Steve wasn’t even completely sure that Sam was actually in the apartment. He didn’t hear him leaving in the morning like usual. Redwing had all but disappeared but that wasn’t much of an indication to Sam’s whereabouts. More than anything, Steve felt guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong but he knew deeply personal information about Sam that Sam himself hadn’t shared with him and he wasn’t sure how to proceed the right way with this. There was really only one person he could talk to who would have an inkling of understanding.

“Hmm.” Natasha commented. As she sat on a stool in her kitchen, a mug of herbal tea in front of her.

“Hmm? I was hoping for more than 'hmm'.” Steve answered, thanking Bucky as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

“I’m processing all you said.” She replied. She sipped on her tea slowly as Bucky dropped down beside her, pressing a kiss to her cheek before unceremoniously beginning to shove pancakes and bacon into his mouth.

"That's disgusting, Buck." Steve commented. Bucky shrugged in response.

"My house." He mumbled around his food. Natasha smacked his shoulder lightly in reprimand before turning her attention to Steve.

“You said you haven’t seen him?”

“Nope.”

“He probably already has a million and one scenarios in his head about what you’re going to say to him and how you’re going to react. I’m sure most of them aren’t pleasant. Beyond that he’s going through a lot, having just gone through a break-up. Even if the guy was a misgendering asshole, he was still his boyfriend. He’s dealing with that, he doesn’t need your guilt on top of it.”

“So what do I do to make him comfortable?”

“Not mentioning it won’t do anything. Historically, that’s actually the worst thing you can do but don’t push the conversation beyond what he’s comfortable with. You need to convey to him that his apartment is still a safe place for him and that you have no intention of using this knowledge against him in any way, shape or form. It won’t be that hard, just be your genuine self.” Natasha said.

“It’s just that easy?” Steve asked doubtfully.

“It’s easy in theory. How the conversation actually goes is up to you two. I’ve got no input in that.”

“You’ll be fine, punk.” Bucky added reassuringly. Steve felt slightly better at his friends' reassurances but he didn't actually see Sam until two days later and it wasn't in the state he was expecting. Steve had actually felt a little happy and excited when he heard the key slide in the door. That feeling turned to confusion as a brown-skinned woman stepped into the room. She was quickly followed by a much larger Black man who held Sam in his arms bridal style like he weighed no more than a feather.

"Um, hi." Steve said to the pair as they stepped into the apartment.

"Hi." The woman replied, glancing at him with a keen eye before turning back to her male companion.

"His room is the one on the right." The man nodded and carried Sam off to his bedroom, leaving the woman with Steve.

"You must be Steve, right? I'm Claire, I'm Sam's friend." She said with a nod.

"Nice to meet you. What happened to him?" Steve asked, nodding towards Sam's bedroom.

"He's been wallowing and drowning his sorrows at my place. Barely functioning in the day at work, getting shit-faced at evening and using the night to try to gain some semblance of sobriety for work the next day. Rinse, wash and repeat. I figured we should bring him home before he gives himself cirrhosis of the liver raiding my liquor cabinet." Steve nodded in understanding. He could understand how devastating the abrupt end of a long term relationship could be.

"Beyond that, there's the fact that the asshole outed him on his way out the door." She said, her eyes flickering back over to Steve with a calculated edge.

"Oh, Sam doesn't have to worry about me. I'm bisexual, so..." Steve trailed off with a shrug.

"So what? Roscoe is gay, that doesn't stop him from being a transphobic asshat."

"I'm not transphobic. One of my best friends is...." Steve trailed off, not bothering to finish that sentence as Claire's look became even more pointed. That wasn't the best route to go for sincerity.

"I... Look, Sam and I fight a lot. I've put all of it on him but the truth is we both have bad habits and we're both shitty roommates and so it hasn't bred the most amiable environment but I would never use who Sam is against him in any way. That's not who I am. I don't really know what else to say about it. I guess my actions will have to do the rest." Claire studied him for a moment more before nodding.

"You're right, they will. I promise you, I'll be watching and if I get even a whiff that you're doing any of the same bullshit Roscoe did I'll put you in a hospital bed right beside his with a collapsed eye socket. Got it?" Steve nodded silently. And he thought Misty was scary, Claire took the cake.

"If you're done threatening the man, we gotta go." The man said, exiting the room.

"Sam doesn't have work tomorrow so just make sure he's doesn't choke on his own vomit or anything until I can come by tomorrow after my shift." Steve nodded once more before watching the two people make their way out the door, the woman obviously reluctant to leave but going nonetheless. Steve got up after a moment, walked over to Sam's room and peeked inside. Sam was laying on his side so he could breath easier. He seemed to be knocked out. Steve hoped that carried through the night because he had no clue how to deal with drunk Sam.

~*~*~

It was dark when Sam woke up but he somehow knew he was home and not at Claire's. It was the atmosphere, his room had a heavier feel to it. Claire's place was free of this heaviness but that was probably because Claire’s place was full of genuine love that came from an actual, working relationship that wasn’t predicated upon whether Luke suddenly up and decided that Claire didn't have the correct genitalia to tide him over anymore.

And with that Sam sat up because if he was still able to at least think the word 'predicated' if not say it, then he was not drunk enough. The reason he had chosen to go to Claire's place was because she had an actual liquor cabinet that was full of all kinds of things. It was a collection Sam helped to cultivate so he had free reign to take from it what he pleased, until Claire cut him off. He wasn't sure if he had anything in this apartment to drink that was stronger than a beer. Maybe Steve did. He had company over enough to have some form of alcohol lying around somewhere. Sam stood up, his body wobbling and his head spinning at the sudden shift. He was still drunk enough to be seeing four of everything and to have all four of those mirror images be blurry almost beyond recognition but he was able to stumble his way out of his room. He walked out into the living room which was dimly lit by the light of the television along with the light above the stove. He could see Steve, or who he thought was Steve, seemingly asleep under a throw. Redwing was sitting above him curled up. Sam smiled to himself and staggered over, cooing at the cat.

"My little baby. Cute little ball of fluff. I love you." He said. Or maybe he didn't, he wasn't sure. Redwing didn't react to the baby talk but to tighten even further into his ball. Sam didn't mind. He focused on trying to silently make his way to the kitchen. It worked better than he thought. Once there, he began to open cabinets, scanning each's contents before huffily closing them back when he didn't find what he wanted in any of the ones that were deemed his. He focused on Steve's cabinets then. In one of them which held some of his art supplies there was a clear wine bottle with a slightly cloudy white liquid. Sam couldn't read the label in his state, not that it mattered. Whatever it was, he was drinking it. He went back to the glass cabinet and fumbled out a tumbler glass. He tried to place it on the counter but somehow it missed and went crashing to the floor.

"Oh no." He muttered, staring at the shattered glass. He went back to the cabinet to reach for another glass before he decided to forego it altogether. He pulled the cork out of the bottle and made to knock back a shot of the drink when the bottle was suddenly ripped from his hands.

"No! Don't drink that!" Sam turned to see Steve staring at him wide eyed.

"Geez, calm down. I didn't know you were that protective of your liquor."

"It's not liquor, it's frit!"

"What the hell is frit?" Sam asked with confusion.

"It's basically powdered glass!"

"Why do you have it in a wine bottle?"

"It was in my art supply cabinet! I use it for my faience ceramics.” Sam stared at him with a lost expression.

“Glass sculptures, Sam. Why would you try to drink it? It’s not even liquid! On top of that, it's toxic. Not to mention it’s glass. You could have killed yourself and then Claire would've killed me!"

"Alright, first, stop yelling at me. I've had about as much as I can take of people yelling at me. Just point me to the liquor and I'm out of your hair, Steve." Sam said, rubbing at his forehead which was starting to throb.

"The only thing you're drinking for the rest of the night is water. Maybe coffee if I'm feeling generous."

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, opening his eyes to glare at Steve though the fact that he could barely open them dulled that effect dramatically.

"I wasn't kidding. If you end up dead or hurt in any way, your friend Claire will kill me. You're not drinking anything else on my watch. You're going back to bed, I'm going to clean up this mess and if you're still awake I'm going to bring you some water. Go." Sam tried to glare at him once more but Steve just gave him a stern look which was multiplied by Sam's bullshit vision and he did not want to be staring at four scowling Steves. He didn't even want to be looking at one. He turned around and began to trudge back to his room, mumbling loud enough for Steve to hear.

"Asshole. Thinks he can tell me what to do. He's not my daddy or my boyfriend. I don't have either of those anymore, I can do whatever I want. Treating me like a baby. I’m a grown ass man. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid face." He walked into his room and dropped down onto his bed or tried to, he missed it and ended up sprawled out on the floor. He should get up before Steve comes in and sees him like this and when Sam was sober enough to care about what Steve saw of him and knew about him, he'd die of humiliation but not now.

Instead of standing he curled up on his side on the rug his mother had sent for him. It was a nice rug. It was still soft enough to not bother him too much as it rubbed against his beard. His eyes flickered open as he heard a meow. He looked forward and smiled as he saw Redwing under the bed staring at him.

“Hi cutie patootie. So you do care whether I die of alcohol poisoning or not.” Redwing meowed once more before curling back into his ball and endeavoring to sleep again. From this angle and the dull lighting of the room, Sam could just make out the contents under his bed. He really needed to clean up, there were papers all over the place and a cup. If Sam had to guess Roscoe probably left it there. Sam remembered finding cups under Roscoe’s bed at his place and telling him to stop the nasty habit. It started out as playful banter between them and over the years something that simple had the power to insight a full blown, drag-out, no holds bar fight between them. Sam shook his head and then his eye caught on a box. Sam reached out and grabbed it. He sat up and pulled it into his lap before opening it.

It was Sam’s special box of memories. He liked to collect keepsakes and this box had been his Roscoe box. It contained pictures, souvenirs, letters between them because they still believed in that kind of thing, and other things Sam saw fit to keep. He stared at the contents inside before anger suddenly filled him. He closed the box and struggled to stand to his feet before blundering his way back to the kitchen. Steve was dumping the glass into the garbage when he came out. He looked at him with consternation when Sam stumbled in.

“I told you to—”

“I don’t care. You’re not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. You know why? Because he was a selfish asshole and the thing is he’s always been. I just, for some reason, found that shit cute in the beginning. What a fucking idiot, right? Now look at me, spending days getting shitface drunk over some guy who couldn’t deserve it less. Well, no need to hide the liquor bottles 'cause I’m done.” Sam declared. He opened the box and pulled out a dolphin figurine.

“We got this from the New York Aquarium. It was a few months into our relationship and I pretended that I didn’t notice him flirting with the cashier at the souvenir shop because he was the first guy who I actually said the words ‘I’m trans’ to that didn’t go running for the hills once he realized what the full package was.” Sam dumped the figurine into the garbage before taking out a photo of the two on a boat. Roscoe was smiling, Sam wasn’t.

“He took me on a trip on the Circleline once. I fucking hate boats. This was 8 months ago, if you don’t know that about your partner four years into a relationship what’s the point of staying together?” Sam dumped that in the garbage too. Next, he pulled out two playbills.

“He took me on a double feature to see ‘Hamilton’ and ‘Les Miserables’ and during the interlude for 'Les Mis' he disappeared and didn’t come back. I didn't see him again for another three days and he didn’t give any explanation. I, being the idiot that I am, accepted it. I mean who does that? Who lowers their standards and allows this crap for four fucking years? I mean…” Sam trailed off in a humorless laugh, completely disregarding the look Steve was giving him. It was a look of pity. Sam didn’t want Steve’s pity.

“I’m just done. I’m done with all of this crap.” Sam groused, throwing the entire box into the garbage. Steve stared at him for a moment more before responding.

“Okay, are you finished?” Sam’s eyes flickered lazily over to Steve before he nodded languidly.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Take a deep breath.” Sam stared at Steve without complying.

“I know. You’re a grown man, you don’t have to listen to me and my stupid face. Still, please just take a deep breath.” Sam rolled his eyes before complying.

"Again." Steve requested. Sam took one more deep breath.

"Better?" Steve asked. Sam did feel a little calmer but he also was able to think a little clearer now and every little thing he'd ignored over four years and the full weight of the breakup which he had been using alcohol to run from came crashing down on him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and before he could attempt to quell them he burst out sobbing, the tears cascading down his face. He placed his hands over his face in order to hide from Steve, not that that did anything.

“Sam…” Steve trailed off. He tried to pull Sam’s hands away from his face but Sam wouldn’t allow him.

“Come on, man. He isn’t worth all of this.”

“I know, right?” Sam mumbled behind his hands before dropping them at his sides so he didn’t get them covered in snot.

“I invested four years into this and I worked so hard at it, you know? Even when it wasn’t working and I knew it wasn’t. I just didn’t want to admit it. I took him back all the time and I thought it’d be different and it never was, never.”

“You’re a good guy and he took advantage of you.” Steve replied, his voice sympathetic. Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t believe that. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Sam.” Sam gave him a look of disbelief then.

“I don’t, I just… I didn’t understand you. You were always so… upset all the time and I didn’t try to understand why. Now I do. I’m sorry for being such an ass to you all the time. You didn’t deserve it.” Sam stared at him but Steve seemed to be sincere.

“I guess I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have taken any of my crap out on you. Also, I acknowledge I’m probably not the best roommate in the world.”

“I acknowledge that about you too.” Steve answered. Sam glared at him and Steve chuckled in response.

“I’m kidding.” Sam tried to hold his glare but couldn’t and ultimately ended up chuckling along with Steve before they lapsed into comfortable silence.

“A chore wheel.” Steve said suddenly.

“Huh?” Sam asked.

“We can create a chore wheel, designate certain tasks to each other for certain days and post little reminders to each other and ourselves even. My old roommate, Brock, and I used to have one before he got arrested.”

“What’d he get arrested for?”

“Murder.” Steve answered simply. Sam stared at him wide eyed.

“I was just as shocked as you. He seemed like such a nice guy. Turned out he’s a real creep.”

“I guess we’re both shitty judges of character, huh?” Sam replied. Steve nodded in agreement.

“You’re safe here, you know?” Steve said suddenly.

“From your crazy, murderous former roommate? Hopefully. He’s locked up, no?”

“I’m not talking about Brock, I’m talking about the fact that you’re transgender.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. I almost forgot you knew.”

“I’m not… I mean I don’t… just know you’re safe here. I would never disrespect you the way Roscoe did and I would never throw who you are back in your face or use it as a way to harm you.” Sam stared at him but once again, Steve seemed sincere.

“Thank you for telling me that. Feel free to tell me again in the morning if I don’t remember this conversation. But I’m going to need some time before I fully trust that.”

“Totally, of course. Oh! And I’ll try to remember to put the toilet seat down.”

“I’d appreciate it. Anyway, I should get back to bed. Try to sleep this off.” Sam said, walking back to his room, his steps slightly steadier than they were before.

“Sure thing, good night.” Steve called.

“Night.” Sam replied walking into his room before popping his head back out.

“Oh, before I go to sleep, please don’t throw away the playbills. They were really good productions, I don’t want to lose those.” Sam requested. Steve nodded and Sam went back to his room before popping his head out once more.

“Also, I don’t think your face is stupid. It’s actually a nice face, if you’re into that kind of thing.” Sam said, nodding with a smile. He made to duck back to his room but Steve stopped him.

“Wait, what kind of thing?”

“You know, GCWGs.”

“What are GCWGs?”

“Generically cute white guys.” Sam replied with a cheeky grin. Steve scoffed with a smile playing on his lips.

“Good night, Sam.” Steve said in a firm tone. Sam slid back into his room, laughter playing on his lips.

“I like you better when you’re drunk.” Steve called after him.

“Funny, I like you better when I’m drunk too.” Sam called back.

~*~*~

When Sam woke up his tongue felt heavy and his mouth felt like there was cotton balls stuffed in it. He sat up, thanking the good lord that he had the sense to close the blinds before falling asleep. He looked around his room, remembering with clarity that Luke had carried him over here, literally carried him after he had passed out on the train. He was going to hear about that for a while to come. He also remembered breaking down in front of Steve.

He must’ve been really drunk to cry in front of the guy he hated… or did hate, they had reached some kind of breakthrough the night before. Sam pulled his legs off the bed and noticed something on the nightstand out of the corner of his eyes. He smiled slightly as he saw his two playbills along with some painkillers and a glass of water. He downed the pills and chased it with water before getting up and leaving his room. Steve was sitting in the living room when Sam walked out, fiddling with something on the coffee table.

“Morning.” Steve said to him, a slight smile on his face. That was probably the first time he had said ‘good morning’ to him since they first moved in together.

“Morning.” Sam replied, he glanced at the project Steve was working on.

“Is that a chore wheel?” Sam asked.

“Yup.” Steve replied proudly. The thing look unnecessarily elaborate and professional but then again, Steve was an artist.

“That’s… really good actually. If that’s any indication of your artwork, maybe I’ll check them out.” Sam said with a shrug. That was probably the first compliment Sam had ever paid Steve.

“Anyway, thanks for last night. Let’s try not to mention that I broke down in front of you. I’d rather not hear about it for years to come.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll only tease you about it privately.” Steve replied. Sam rolled his eyes, flipping Steve the bird as he walked away but he couldn’t quite fight the smile on his face. He had lost a boyfriend, yes but somehow in all that he had also gained a friend. It wasn’t the worst trade-off in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

“Shit.” Sam cursed from across the room. Steve looked over to where he was sitting on the couch on his phone. Steve had been covertly sketching him from his place at the dining table. Sam hadn’t really noticed and if he had he didn’t say anything about it.

They had been a lot better lately now that they had brought some semblance of order to their living arrangement. They still argued sometimes but they had also reached a place where they were something like friends so Steve felt comfortable inquiring the matter to Sam.

“It’s nothing serious. It’s just that I bought these movie tickets like a month ago thinking I was going to go with Roscoe and well, that’s not happening. Damn it. I should’ve waited.”

“Which movie?”

“Deadpool. I got IMAX tickets.” Steve winced.

“Sorry.”

“Yup. Just when I think I’m done losing things to that idiot.” Steve stared at Sam silently lament the 20 bucks. He knew it wasn’t the dollar value so much as the principle getting to him.

“I could go with you.” Steve offered. Sam looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and Steve shrugged in response.

“No point in you wasting the ticket or the money, right?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day. Don’t you have plans or something?”

“Who would I have plans with? I’ll buy the food. Come on, it’ll be fun.” Sam contemplated that for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Cool. Just tell me the time and I’ll make sure my schedule’s clear.”

“Cool.” Steve went back to his sketch, studiously ignoring the way there was a fluttering inside of him.

~*~*~

It should've been easy to get himself together to just go to the movies with his roommate. He had done it before with Claire and with Misty when he lived with her. For some reason though, this felt different. Sam was kind of obsessing about it and Claire didn't help.

"Wait, you're going on a date with your roommate? I thought you hated him?" Claire said as they sat in the VA hospital's breakroom.

"It's not a date and I never said I hated him."

"Uh, you buy tickets, he buys food, sounds like a date to me. And I'm pretty sure your exact words were 'I hate him'." Claire replied.

"Well, it isn't a date and I don't hate him anymore." Claire raised her hands in surrender, focusing on her food for a moment before speaking again.

"It sounds like a date though."

"I know, right? I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what to say." Sam whined.

"You dated since Roscoe?"

"It's been three months."

"So? Have you dated?"

"No, Claire. I haven't dated. I had a weak moment at Christmas. My parents were asking about him and I told them the truth. After I convinced my brother not to beat him up, I called him. We talked. He apologized. He wanted us to meet up and we set up a time but I... I never showed."

"Good. Let him feel how you've been feeling the past few years dealing with his ass."

"Roscoe's not important right now, it's this thing with Steve that's tripping me up."

"Do you want this to be a date?" Sam paused, thinking about it.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I wouldn't mind. He's a sarcastic asshole but he can be sweet when he wants to be."

"He's a step up from Roscoe, that's for sure. He's not bad on the eyes either. You could do worse. You have done worse."

"I feel like fifty years from now you're still going to be bringing up Roscoe. You're never going to let me live this down."

"Probably not. If you're going on a date, I need to come over and help you pick out some clothes."

"We don't know that it's a date... but if it is you should probably come over."

~*~*~

"You have a date? I feel like I haven't seen you date in I don't even know how long." Natasha said, sitting at his kitchen island, stroking Redwing who stretched out on his stomach for her.

"It's not a date, it's two friends going to see a movie together." Steve replied, stirring the oatmeal he was making.

"Since when are you two friends?" Natasha asked.

"We just are. We get along and now we're going to see a movie."

"On Valentine's Day." She pointed out.

"So? It's not even a real holiday. It's just consumer fair that big--"

"Alright, I don't need the spiel. You're not going to distract me from the matter at hand. You've got a date."

"For the last time, It's not a date."

"Does he know that?" Steve paused then. He hadn't exactly clarified. And, well, maybe he didn't want to clarify. He wouldn't mind this being a date but he also didn't want to put himself out on the line. It was probably unfair to leave this in Sam's hands without even telling him there was anything in his hands in the first place. The look Natasha was giving him said she knew exactly what he was thinking and she agreed. She didn't offer any advice though.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Steve shook his head. He highly doubted he would figure it out by then.

~*~*~

As per her promise, Claire came over and helped him pick out an outfit for the date/not-date. He thought he looked pretty good. He wore a nice pair of grey washed jeans with a dark blue polo button up and a burgundy cardigan. It was understated and comfortable but flattering.

"Wow, who knew you cleaned up so well." Steve said as Sam exited his bedroom.

"What can I say? I put in effort every now and again. You're not too awful." Sam replied, walking over to him.

"Well, there's a compliment." Steve replied dryly. He did look nice. He wore a pair of blue jeans with a blue and white plaid shirt and a brown leather jacket.

"There's one somewhere in there." Sam replied with a shrug. Steve smirked at his sarcasm before nodding him towards the door. 

"Let's get out of here before we miss the movie."

"Claire, feed my cat!" Sam called back into the apartment.

"Have fun on your date!" She replied. Both Sam and Steve froze then. Claire popped her head out from his bedroom sheepishly.

"I wasn't supposed to say that part, was I? Oops." She said before retreating back to the room.

"Date?" Steve asked turning to him.

"I... When you asked I wasn't sure. I mean it kinda sounded like it but I don't want to assume anything." Sam replied nervously

"It could be. A date, I mean. If you want."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, right?" Sam asked. Steve shook his head in reply.

"No. I don't think so."

"Good."

"Yeah, good." Steve replied. They stood staring at each other awkwardly until Claire popped her head back out of the bedroom.

"You're going to be late." That pushed the two of them into high gear and they made their way out the door finally.

~*~*~

Steve's stomach was full of nerves but he thought he hid it well. He and Sam took the train to 42nd street to the AMC theater for the movie. The line for food was substantial but the seats were assigned so it was okay. Once they got their food they made their way to theater. It was already packed but Sam directed them towards their seats and they precariously climbed the steps while laden with food.

"Right... here." Sam said. He got two seats off to the side. There would be two other people sitting with them but that was okay. They sat down together and situated themselves comfortably. Steve looked over at Sam as he suddenly started laughing.

"What?" He asked.

"I was just thinking about the fact that this is my first Valentine's without Roscoe in four years. Holidays were so much pressure with him."

"I'm sure everything was a lot of pressure with him." Steve replied, stuffing some popcorn in his mouth.

"You're not wrong. It's not that way with you. We may not have gotten off on the right foot but we figured it out."

"Eventually."

"Eventually. So how do you usually spend Valentine's Day? I haven't seen a boyfriend or girlfriend around."

"Been single for a while. I usually spend it with Bucky and Natasha, what time they're not fucking each other, then whatever fellow members of the lonely-hearts club I can find."

"So, this isn't too much of a deviation. Besides the fact that we're on a date."

"Not too different but you're definitely hotter than my usual company."

"Ooh, more compliments. You're playing your cards very well." Steve shrugged with mock smugness.

"It’s skills acquired through years of training and studying."

"Mmm, is that right?" Sam replied with amusement.

"I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that, Mr. I-like-your-face." Sam scoffed at that.

"I don't know what you're trying to imply but I'm as smooth an operator as Sade. Besides, I do like your face. Like I said, it’s a good face."

"For a basic White boy."

"You said it." Sam said around a smirk, sipping his giant drink.

"I can do a lot with this face. I'm very versatile." Steve replied. Sam smirked at the suggestive undertones. This was nice, flirting with his roommate on a simple date with no expectations. If nothing happened, no harm done. If it did, he wouldn't be opposed to getting lucky.

"Tell me more." Sam replied, just as suggestive.

"Yeah, tell us more Steve." Sam spun around and stared at Roscoe with another man in shock.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Planning to watch Deadpool. I figured you would sell the tickets or give it away. Didn't think you’d show up with Steve, especially after you stood me up. Careful. Rebounding with the roommate can be tricky. I expected better.” Sam looked away with an annoyed scoff, glancing at Steve who gave him a placating look. Sam turned back around with wide eyes as Roscoe sat down beside them with his date.

“You’re not sitting here.”

“I bought tickets for these seats, so I am.” Sam sat back and looked at the screen as the previews began showing. 

Sam tensed as Roscoe’s arm brushed against his. He glanced over at Steve apologetically. Things had been going so well and as soon as he saw Roscoe, he felt something cold fill his veins. Steve shook his head and stood up, motioning Sam to move to his seat so he didn’t have to be beside his ex. Sam nodded gratefully and moved to the corner seat. Steve sat down next to him and took his drink out of the cup holder. He scooted closer to Sam and threw an arm over his shoulder. Sam was startled a little before he smirked at the sound of Roscoe’s disgruntled mumbling. 

He leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder and dipped one of his chicken tenders into his BBQ sauce, his eyes trained on the screen as well as Steve’s scent. He was wearing a sweet cologne. It wasn’t overpowering enough to bother Sam’s allergies, it was a nice scent. He nuzzled further into Steve’s arm and did his best to ignore his ex-boyfriend on a date beside him. It was easy to do. It was a good movie and Steve kept him distracted.

If he had the urge to look past him at Roscoe, he would somehow sense it and pull Sam tighter against him or begin playing with his fingers or something else that kept him from looking over at his ex. It was nice. Once the movie was over, he and Steve got up and swiftly left before Roscoe did. They dumped their garbage and went down the escalator quickly. Steve held his hand as they got to the ground level and left the theater, walking past Madame Tussade’s wax museum.

“You wanna head home? Or we could stay out for a bit longer?” Steve asked. Sam glanced back at the theater as Roscoe and his date exited. He met his eyes and glanced down at his and Steve’s joined hands disapprovingly before turning to kiss the guy he was with. Steve followed his gaze before pulling Sam ever so slightly.

“You know what? Let’s head back home. It’s getting late anyway.” Sam nodded, following Steve to the subway. He felt deflated. He didn’t understand why Roscoe had to ruin every good thing for him. He just wanted to be happy, that wasn’t a lot to ask. Steve seemed to sense his mood and didn’t question him. He kept Sam’s hand in his, massaging comforting circles into the back of his hand. They reached their apartment quickly and Sam stopped as they reached their door.

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Roscoe. We were having a good time before he showed up. It was nice. I enjoyed it.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him. He’s an asshole, that’s not on you. I had a good time. I’d like to do it again.” Steve replied. Sam smiled at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve replied. Sam looked down with a smile playing on his lips before looking back up at Steve. He really did have a nice face and Sam liked him. They were roommates, this complicated things but things were already so complicated and Sam wanted to feel good like he did earlier and he wanted Steve, so why not? It was easy to step closer to the taller man and press a kiss to his lips. 

~*~*~

Steve made a surprised noise as Sam’s lips were suddenly pressed to his. He hadn’t expected this, he hadn’t even hoped for it but he certainly didn’t mind it. He returned the kiss, pressing their lips harder against one another. Sam pulled on his shoulders to get him closer to him as Steve pushed him against the wall next to their apartment, pressing their bodies together to feel his solid heat. Steve’s head felt hazy, cloudy with lust but he managed to get ahold of himself enough to pull back and look over Sam inquiringly.

“Are you sure about this? I’m not expecting anything from you and you don’t owe me for anything.” Steve told him. Sam smiled a little at him.

“I know. I want this. It’s not about Roscoe or anything else, it’s about us. I want you.” Sam confirmed, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips and press his forehead to his. Steve nodded against him before opening their apartment and allowing Sam to enter first before he entered behind him and quickly closed the door. He threw his keys in the general vicinity of the key bowl and practically tore his leather jacket off as Sam did the same with his jacket and cardigan. They met again in a kiss that was a lot harder than the two previous ones were. Steve got him back up against the wall and pressed him hard into against it, running his hands over Sam’s body. He set his fingers to unbuttoning Sam’s shirt as he moved his lips from his mouth to his neck. Sam breathed out a harsh chuckle.

“What if I said I’ve wanted this for a while?” Sam said.

“I’d say you weren’t alone.” Steve replied, moving down Sam’s chest as he finally got his shirt open all the way. There were scars on his chest, beneath both pecs. He kissed them curiously.

“It’s from top surgery.” He explained. Steve nodded against his skin and continued pressing kisses to the scars before he pushed the shirt off Sam’s shoulders and picked him up, bringing him to the couch. 

Sam kicked his shoes off and quickly unbuttoned his pants as soon as his back hit the cushions. Steve chuckled and quickly stripped down to underwear as well before climbing on the couch and kneeling between Sam’s legs. He let his fingers play with the waist band of Sam’s underwear before looking at his face.

“Can I?” He asked softly. Sam looked a little frightened at the prospect and Steve leaned down to kiss the furrow between his brows away. He lingered there for a while as Sam laid in silent contemplation before he finally took a deep breath and nodded. Steve pressed one more kiss to his forehead before he carefully removed Sam’s briefs and threw them somewhere behind him. He leaned back and looked over Sam’s body. He squirmed like he was uncomfortable with the attention. Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I was right.” He whispered against his lips.

“Huh?”

“You are hotter than anyone else I’ve spent Valentine’s Day with.” Sam giggled at that.

“Liar.” 

“You think so? I wonder how I can prove it to you.” He said playfully. Before he began kissing down Sam’s body. Sam chuckled breathlessly as Steve’s breath brushed against his stomach and naval. Steve continued his descent until he was right above Sam’s sex. He swiftly parted the thatch of hair there before licking a strip up his pussy. Sam shivered violently under him. Steve looked up to see if he was okay.

“Sorry. It’s been a while. Roscoe didn’t usually like to have anything to do with the front so much as the back.” Steve nodded.

“I’ll be gentle then.” He leaned back into his vagina, his heady musk surrounding him as continued licking gently. He worked his way to Sam’s clit, easing him into the feeling before licking at the nub. Sam moaned breathlessly, his hand tangling intoSteve’s blonde locks as he began circling his tongue around the area and sucking him gently.

“Steve.” Sam groaned, his hand tightening in his hands. Steve’s fingers trailed down Sam’s thighs as he continued alternating between sucking and licking him, he ran his fingers down his pussy before stopping at his entrance.

“Oh God, yes please.” Sam exclaimed, answering his unspoken question. Steve paused in his ministrations, garner a whimper from Sam. He gently removed Sam’s fingers from his hair, kissing the digits before pushing himself off the couch.

“I’ll be right back.” He told him before moving to his room as quickly as he could without flat out running. He opened the drawer next to his bed and grabbed his lube and a condom before returning to the couch. Sam looked at him inquiringly and he showed him the contents. Sam smiled and pulled him back down on top of him, pulling him into a kiss. Steve was sure he could taste him on his lips but Sam didn’t care. It made Steve’s already hard member throb in his boxer briefs.

He opened the lube container and squirted some on his fingers before he returned to Sam’s heat. He didn’t bother tip-toeing this time and immediately went for his clit, sucking harder than he had before. He could feel as Sam’s back arched on the couch, both his hands tangling in Steve’s hair this time as he cried out.

“Oh, fuck! Mmm, don’t stop.” Steve had no plans to. He licked the nub to soothe the ache his enthusiasm might have caused. He moved his slicked fingers to Sam’s entrance. He gently pressed one finger against him before letting it slip inside of him. Sam groaned and held tighter to his hair. It stung a little. Steve loved it. He placed a hand on Sam’s hip to hold him place when he started to buck a little, not wanting him to be hurt. He pumped his finger in and out of him gently in contrast with the way he was eating him out. He let himself get progressively rougher with him and Sam didn’t seem to mind at all.

He pulled his finger out and gave Sam a break, kissing his thigh as he slicked up a second finger for him. He pushed two fingers in as gently as he could, relishing in the way Sam gasped at the entrance.

“Good?” Steve asked.

“It’s fine.” Sam answered, gasping again as Steve began scissoring his fingers lightly, opening him up. He waited until Sam was moaning and trying to fuck himself on Steve’s fingers before he leaned forward again and started licking and sucking him. Sam moaned deeply then.

“Steve, oh shit, I’m going come.” Sam mumbled between broken moans. Steve pumped his fingers faster into Sam’s entrance, matching his thrusts with his tongue as he continued the assault on his clit. The noises coming from Sam filled their apartment. Steve was glad there was no one in the apartment beside them or they’d probably get a noise complaint by now. Sam came with a shout of his name, his thighs pressing against Steve’s head. 

Steve rubbed his hand over Sam’s leg comfortingly as he came down from his orgasm. Steve pressed a kiss to his outer lips before making his way back up Sam’s body and pressing kisses to his neck as Sam’s breath calmed. He pushed against Steve’s shoulder once his breath was regulated again.

Steve sat back on his haunches and let Sam maneuver them so he was sitting in Steve’s lap. He leaned and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, his hands roaming down his chest towards his dick which strained against the fabric of his underwear. Steve groaned as Sam’s finger traced the outline of his dick, his palm pressing into him. Steve grinded against his hand, wanting more friction, wanting to feel Sam, wanting anything Sam would give him.

Sam eased off of him so he could pull Steve’s his boxer briefs off. He leaned down and press a kiss to the tip of Steve’s cock.

“Don’t tease me.” Sam chuckled before licking up his length. Steve gasped when he took him into his mouth, lowering his head down his length and coming back up slowly. Sam set a steady, bliss-inducing pace. Steve felt pulses of pleasure shooting up his back as Sam bobbed up and down his length. 

He had to stop him so he wouldn’t come then and there and pulled him into a kiss, flipping them so he was back on top of him. He grabbed the condom off the table and opened the wrapper with his teeth, rolling it on his length as Sam ran his hands over his abdomen. Sam sat up and idly pressed kisses to his skin while Steve lubed himself up. He leaned down and kissed Sam’s lips, gently pressing him back down to the couch. Sam opened his legs and wrapped them around Steve’s back as he lined himself up with his entrance.

Sam held on to him tightly as Steve entered him. Steve stopped once he was all the way in, checking with Sam ever so often to see if he wanted him to stop. Steve felt like the breath was knocked out of him. It had been a while for him too and Sam was so tight and receptive to him. He kept his thrusts shallow at first, almost lazy, so Sam could get used to the stretch and feeling of vaginal sex after so long.

“Steve, I’m not a china doll. Fuck me.” Steve chuckled before planting his knees in the couch so he could thrust harder into Sam. Sam moaned, his head dropping back onto the couch as Steve pushed into him harder and faster.

“I started to doubt you actually wan-ah!” Sam’s tease was cut off as Steve pulled his body closer to his and began piston into him.

“Better?” He asked cheekily.

“Fuck yes!” Sam moaned throatily. Steve moved them so Sam was pressed into the corner of the couch. He grabbed both of his legs and pulled them higher so he could fuck him properly. They moaned collectively as Steve slipped deeper into him. Sam wrapped both arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly.

“You feel so good.” Steve moaned, thrusting harder into his heat. Sam was grabbing desperately at his skin like he was trying to merge them into one. Steve hissed as Sam’s fingernails dug into his skin and dragged down against it. Sweat from his back mingled with the wounds and made him throb even harder as he pumped into the other man.

“Are you close?” Sam asked huskily in his ear. Steve nodded against his skin as he continued thrusting. Sam tapped his shoulder so he would let up before leaning over to grab the lube from the table. He slicked his hand up before he began massaging Steve’s balls. Steve shuddered at the sensation. He licked his finger before returning it to Sam’s clit. He moaned under Steve as he resumed his thrusting and their hands played one another like fiddles. Sam moaned breathlessly as he shivered through a second orgasm. Steve was just as breathless as Sam clenched around him, his hand still massaging his balls. Steve’s orgasm took him by surprise, filtering hot into the condom. He leaned down heavily on the arm of the couch, Sam still trapped behind his heavy body. He didn’t seem to mind as he pressed kisses along Steve’s shoulder while they both came down.

“Best first date ever?”

“Mmm, top five at least.” Sam replied teasingly. Steve scoffed and tickled his sides lightly garnering a giggle from him.

“We need a shower.” Steve told him, pulling his softening dick from his entrance.

“Yeah but let’s stay here for a second.” Steve nodded and pressed his head into the crook of Sam’s neck pressing a kiss there. This was probably the most eventful Valentine’s Day he’d had in a while.


End file.
